


planning ahead

by t_hens



Series: chronically, yours [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Comfort, Disability, Established Relationship, Hurt Phil, M/M, diagnosis of a chronic illness, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 15:24:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15821664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_hens/pseuds/t_hens
Summary: with a little convincing, Phil finally sees a doctor to try to figure out why he has been feeling so unwell for so long.though he's nervous, with Dan by his side, Phil knows that he can face his diagnosis and all the ups and downs that come along with it.sequel to 'weak knees, stubborn heart'





	planning ahead

**Author's Note:**

> this is a continuation of what is essentially my journey of diagnosis and living with Rheumatoid Arthritis. 
> 
> a giant thank you to [huphilpuffs](https://huphilpuffs.tumblr.com/) and [fourthingsandawizard](https://fourthingsandawizard.tumblr.com/) for being my betas.  
> this story wouldn't be what it was without you guys <3

Phil heard the paper beneath him on the exam chair crinkle each time he moved, and he couldn’t help cringing at the sound. The gown they made him wear was itchy and he wanted desperately to rip it off. He hated hospitals. More than anything in the world, he hated going to the doctors and had always avoided it. 

But he wasn’t just doing this for himself, he thought wearily. His quality of life wasn’t the only one being affected, and anything that hurt Dan or made him unhappy was worth trying to fix.

He fiddled with his gown and sighed impatiently. He just wanted the appointment to be over with, and sitting on a piece of parchment paper in nothing but an itchy gown and his pants really wasn’t helping his anxiety. Just as he was about to get up and look for his phone in his pile of clothes to distract himself, the door opened and a nurse came in, toting a large machine on wheels. 

“Are you Phil Lester?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice cracking a little from being unused.

“Okay, I’m Marcia. We’re just gonna get some vitials real quick and then the doctor will be in to see you.”

Phil nodded and held out his arm as she fastened a blood pressure cuff to it, his arm being squeezed so tightly he couldn’t help hissing in pain. She tsk’d sympathetically and removed it once the numbers appeared on the screen, then took his temperature and attached a small device to his finger. When she was finished, she wheeled the machine off, wishing him well, and he was left to sit there with his arm throbbing and his finger aching from where the machine had pinched it to take whatever reading it had needed.

After what felt like a lifetime, a small, portly man walked into the room carrying a clipboard. He held out his hand to Phil and introduced himself. Phil shook his hand and then went back to toying with his gown. The doctor sat on his stool and wheeled himself close to the exam table.

“So, what brings you in today?”

Phil resisted the urge to roll his eyes, or let out of noise of irritation. What was the point of filling out 10 pages of exam questions and telling all the information to the nurse if he just had to turn around and repeat it all again? He held in his frustration, though, and thought about the best way to describe his situation.

“Well, I’m having a lot of pain in my joints. I wake up in the morning and they are really swollen and painful, and it’s hard to walk a lot of days. Some days aren’t quite as bad, but there is almost always some sort of swelling and pain.”

The doctor eyed him for a moment and then made some notes on Phil’s chart. 

“Okay, which joints do you think are most affected?”

Phil hesitated. He felt stupid saying ‘all of them,’ even though it was pretty much true. 

“Well, my hands get really bad, especially in the morning. And my feet are almost always bad. My knees and shoulders and my wrists are pretty bad sometimes, too.”

The doctor wrote some more on his board, then set it down to wash his hands and put on gloves. Phil eyed him wearily and the doctor seemed to notice, giving him a reassuring smile.

“I’m just gonna do a physical assessment, and then we will do some blood work later.”

Phil nodded. The doctor indicated that Phil bring his hands forward. Phil did, letting the doctor squeeze each joint, causing Phil to wince in pain. His wrist was next, not quite as tender, but he could still feel a dull throb when it was rotated. When his shoulder was rotated, Phil let out a loud hiss, the doctor stopping and asking if he was okay. He nodded and they continued with the assessment. 

When his knees were gripped, Phil couldn’t help letting out a yelp. The doctor gave a sympathetic look, but continued, moving toward his feet, and Phil braced himself. He knew this would be painful and was not looking forward to it. Each squeeze to his feet made him grimace more and more, and he could feel tears pooling in his eyes. He brushed them away quickly when the doctor moved away and was no longer looking. 

The doctor wrote some things down and then turned towards Phil. 

“Okay, so can you tell me a little bit about your symptoms? Like, is your pain better or worse in the morning?”

Phil didn’t have to think much about that. “Definitely worse in the morning. It gets a little better once the day wears on, but if I do a lot of walking, they hurt a lot towards the evening, too.” 

“What about fatigue or insomnia? Are you having trouble concentrating on things? Loss of appetite or depression?”

Phil squirmed a little. This was the part he had felt hesitant about when he had agreed to go to the doctor. Saying ‘yes my joints hurt’ was one thing, but shining a spotlight onto things like his concentration and depression made him feel like there was something wrong with his brain, not just his body. 

“Um, yes, definitely fatigue. And there are nights when I have insomnia pretty bad, too, even though I’m super tired.”

“Okay, what about the other two? Have you had any troubles concentrating, or have you experienced any symptoms of depression?”

Phil fidgeted with his gown. He could feel the doctor’s eyes on him, so he looked up and met his gaze. They were kind and seemed to show some understanding that Phil was thankful for.

“Yes. To both. I have a hard time focusing on things, and I’m having a hard time remembering stuff that people tell me. And the depression…” he trailed off. 

The doctor patted his arm.

“It’s okay, it’s natural to feel confused or uncertain about feelings of depression.”

Phil smiled and mumbled his thanks. The doctor wheeled away and started to write things down on the clipboard. 

“Okay. So, based on the physical assessment, I believe what you have may be Rheumatoid Arthritis. I can’t say 100% for sure, we need to draw some blood and do some tests to confirm, but I’m pretty sure with that diagnosis.”

Phil nodded. He wasn’t surprised by this. He had spent many sleepless nights on the internet trying to find answers to why he was in so much pain and why he couldn’t walk some days, but others he only had a tiny limp. 

“So, go ahead and get dressed, and we will get you over to the lab and get your blood drawn.”

Phil nodded, and when the room was empty, he moved to get his clothes back on. It was slow going - sitting for so long left his feet sore and stiff. 

Once he was dressed, the doctor showed him the way to the lab and let him know that he would call him with the results. Phil nodded and made his way down the winding hallway to the lab, where they put a tourniquet too tightly around his arm and drew what felt like too much blood and pointed him towards the exit.

He made his way home, exhausted and ready to slide into bed. He checked his phone while he sat in the back of his cab and saw a slew of texts from Dan.

From Dan: hey let me know how it goes  
From Dan: are you done yet? whats going on?  
From Dan: philip michael lester text me back!!!!!  
From Dan: I hope youre okay please text me back  
From Dan: how do you not have your phone on you???? text meeee

Phil chuckled at the messages and texted out a quick reply.

From Phil: I’m sorry I didn’t want to text during the appointment and I just got into a cab to go home. Can we skype when I get home? I miss you.

From Dan: im glad youre okay  
From Dan: and yes we can skype let me know when youre ready im already in my room  
From Dan: and i miss you too

Phil locked his phone and laid his head back on the seat, a headache forming at his temples. 

When the cab pulled up to the apartment, he paid the driver and limped into their building. He moved slowly through their home, taking his shoes off and leaving them at the door, even though he knew that Dan would tsk at him if he was home. He stopped in the kitchen and microwaved some leftover pizza, not feeling hungry, but knowing Dan would be asking if he ate and would be upset if he knew how little Phil had been eating since he was gone. 

When he was finished, he slowly made his way to their room, trading his jeans out for pajamas and crawling into bed. When he was comfortable, he texted Dan that he was ready, and before he knew it, his laptop was lighting up with the Skype logo. He pressed accept and smiled as Dan’s somewhat pixelated face filled the screen.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey,” Dan smiled, making a bit of the tenseness in Phil’s shoulders fade away. “How did it go?”

Phil shrugged vaguely.

“Good, I guess. He thinks I have Rheumatoid Arthritis.”

Dan nodded, like Phil guessed he would. Dan had done his own share of research, constantly on the lookout for a home remedy for joint pain and swelling and what their causes could be.

“So, he thinks, or he knows?”

“He’s pretty sure. He had them draw blood, but he said he was pretty certain.”

Dan didn’t say anything in response, just looked at Phil for a few minutes in that way that he did sometimes that made Phil feel like he was being looked through. 

“What? Why are you staring at me?” Phil said with a tired chuckle.

Dan smiled again, apparently not realizing he had been being so obvious.

“I just miss you. I wish I could be there.”

“I know, but it’s important that you see your family while you still have the opportunity. We’re gonna be gone for a long time on tour and they’re gonna miss you.”

“I know,” Dan grumbled.

Phil gave him a soft smile.

“I miss you, though. I wish you were here, too.”

Dan made a face at him. “Okay enough gushy romance. You’re gonna get a stomach ache from all this cheese.”

Phil let out a surprised laugh, and Dan looked pleased with himself.

“You’re so lucky. I’m so funny.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Looks aren’t everything Dan,” he said, earning him the offended scoff he was going for.

“Ugh phan divorce, starting now.”

“We need to get married first, dingus.”

“It’s all semantics at this point, Philly,” Dan said, waving his hand dismissively.

Phil laughed again and scooted farther down into bed, getting more comfortable.

They chatted for another hour before Phil could feel fatigue pull at his eyelids, his words starting to slur as he only half paid attention to what Dan was saying.

“Hey, go to sleep, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’ll text you when I’m on my train home.”

Phil nodded sleepily. “Okay,” he said, lips barely moving to get the words out.

“Love you,” Dan said quietly.

Phil was still awake enough that he could see Dan smiling at him and how terribly fond he looked, and it made Phil’s heart thump happily.

“Love you, too. Miss you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Go to sleep.” 

Phil didn’t bother replying, just nodded and moved his laptop to Dan’s side of the bed and was asleep before the call disconnected.

The next morning, he was woken up by his phone ringing. He thought about letting it go to voicemail, but thought better of it, gingerly dragging his body to a sitting position and ignoring the sharp aches it took to hold onto his phone first thing in the morning.

“Hello?” he answered, voice raspy with sleep.

“Hello, is this Mr. Lester?”

“Yes,” he answered, fumbling for his glasses in the bed where they had slid off when he had fallen asleep with them on.

“Good morning, this is Marcia from Dr. Stuart’s office. I was just calling with your test results.”

“Oh, okay,” Phil said, feeling much more awake.

“As the doctor thought, it did come back as Rheumatoid Arthritis, so he’s gonna schedule you with a rheumatologist and you guys can work together to get a treatment plan sorted, okay?”

“Okay,” Phil said quietly.

He hung up the phone, not bothering to say goodbye. Before he could stop them, hot, fast tears were streaming down his face. Tears of relief, happiness, confusion, frustration; every emotion all at once, pouring out of his eyes.

He pressed his sore hands to his eyes and tried to stop the flow of tears, but it was really no use, so he just laid down and let himself cry.

He was so happy that he finally had an answer and they could begin making a plan. But there was also sadness because he had to have answers and he had to have a plan. He wasn’t a normal person.There was no pretending anymore.

Phil took a few minutes to mourn the part of him that ached desperately for that.

He knew there was no cure, there was only treatment, but he had the opportunity to feel better and he couldn’t turn that down. His life, and Dan’s, would be better because of this, and he couldn’t deny he was happy for that.

He laid there for a while, and when he was calm, he grabbed his phone again. Even though it was still early, he needed to call Dan. Making a plan was in his future, and there was never going to be a future where Dan was not a part of Phil’s plan, too.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: tobieallison  
> pillowfort: t_hens
> 
> like/reblog on [tumblr](http://tobieallison.tumblr.com/post/177471253381/planning-ahead) if you like :)


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